


If It Wasn't You

by gointorosedale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-21
Updated: 2010-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:52:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gointorosedale/pseuds/gointorosedale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes up late in the morning, lazy and comfortable, entangled in the bed sheets.</p><p>A short fluffy moment between the brothers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Wasn't You

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics and title are from Wisdom Tooth.

**If It Wasn’t You (Then I Don’t Know Who)**

_Stateline after Stateline, the foul feast on which we dine…  
_ _This is all you get and I admit, it ain’t pretty, oh, it ain’t pretty,  
_ _Just one more mile-marker to make our vision sharper,  
_ _But if it wasn’t you then I don’t know who._

Sam wakes up late in the morning, lazy and comfortable, entangled in the bed sheets. The sun is shining onto the bed and the sheets are really too warm and his pyjama pants too thick, so she shifts a bit and tries to get to a cooler spot.

“You awake?” Dean asks, from someplace in the hall. His head shows up in the doorway, and he grins when he catches sight of Sam as he enters the bedroom.

“Mmm,” Sam mumbles vaguely, blinking his eyes open and stretching.

Dean grins. “You’re such a lazy ass,” he says, shaking his head, but his grin is affectionate. He sits on the bedside.

“’S summer holiday,” Sam says, sitting up and leaning against Dean. “Means I get to be lazy.”

“Means _other people _get to be,” Dean says, tracing a hand along Sam’s jaw as Sam nuzzles his neck. Sam would argue but he’s feeling great and he’s not in the mood for another hunter argument. “There’s breakfast in the kitchen, if you’re hungry.”

Sam nods, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When he opens his eyes, Dean is looking at him with such unguarded open affection that Sam smiles. He leans forward, folding his arms around Dean’s neck to drag him down for a kiss. Dean doesn’t resist, holding onto Sam's face almost reverently but when he breaks away he scoffs.

“Dude, brush your teeth,” he says, and Sam snorts, dragging Dean back against him for another kiss.

Sam’s eyelids are practically drooping as they kiss, soft gusts of breath hitting the side of his face and he wouldn’t ever want to get up except it’s ridiculously warm. Not the good kind either, but uncomfortable because the sheets are heated up by the sun and Dean is one solid line of heat on top of Sam. Sam pushes at Dean’s chest, who rolls his eyes as he sits back. Sam can practically hear the ‘make up your mind.’

“Come on, go eat,” Dean urges Sam. Sam gets up, stretching lazily. He catches sight of the appreciative look Dean gives him and chuckles, kissing him briefly before following him to the living room. Sam loves it when Dad is on a hunt, when he can just kiss Dean and fuck Dean and fall asleep next to him. It’s like, for a few moments, everything is perfect. There’s just them and nothing else.

Sam sits down in the living room and eats his breakfast while Dean sits beside him and watches TV. When Sam finishes breakfast, he yawns sleepily and lies down with his head in Dean’s lap. It’s better in the shade, where he isn’t sweating bullets and the window’s open. A cool breeze blows in through the window, ruffling his hair. Dean grumbles about girlyness and Sam mumbles, “Shut up,” against the side of his leg.

Sam hums happily and Dean, despite his grumbling, drags his fingers through Sam’s hair. Dean pauses to look at his watch. “I need to go to work in half an hour, you know.”

Sam sighs. Dean got a job as a mechanic, because Dad’s been gone for two weeks and they need money. It’s a good job, pays just enough for the two of them, and Dean leaves late so Sam gets to spend the morning with him.

“You get off at three today, right?” Sam asks, turning onto his back. Dean turns the TV off and nods.

"Yeah, we can lunch after that,” Dean says, sounding distracted as he trails his fingertips along the bridge of Sam’s nose.

“Is food all you care about?” Sam complains, last half muffled as Dean’s fingertips get to his lips. Sam smiles. Dean is obviously in a really good mood, because it’s pretty rare for him to be this affectionate.

“Yeah,” Dean smirks. “And the Impala.”

Sam sighs again, but has nothing to say to that and instead, sits up and kisses Dean again. Sometimes Sam loves his life. He may hate hunting but he’s got Dean and together they’ve got another half-an-hour and the rest of their lives.


End file.
